


Paradise

by viceroyvonmutini



Series: Utopia [1]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-18 07:20:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4697183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viceroyvonmutini/pseuds/viceroyvonmutini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a war coming and Shaw's certain Root will be the death of her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lilith

**Author's Note:**

> This is an experiment almost: it started out as a oneshot but I got a bit obsessed with expanding the universe they inhabit and the powers they have so I extended it a little. It's sort of a weird poi/angels and demons fantasy type thing, with a definite hint of Legend of the Seeker in there if you look for it. 
> 
> Inspired at first by Kanye West's 'Love Lockdown.' Somewhat unedited. Think of this as a prologue.

‘Root.’

‘Sameen.’

The word slipped from her mouth like liquor and the woman stepped forward, taking Shaw’s arm in her own and guiding her into the throng of distinguished guests.

Shaw’s skin prickled at the touch.

‘Relax Sameen,’ chided Root lightly, smiling at a waiter as she picked up a flute of champagne, ‘this is a party.’

‘Why are you here?’

Root gestured with her champagne over the party guests in explanation.

‘A gathering of the rich and famous,’ Root brought the flute to her lips taking a gentle sip, swallowing lightly and smiling at the smooth taste, ‘why wouldn’t I be here?’

Shaw forced Root to stop moving, spinning her by the arm to face her and locking eyes with the woman. She was perfectly put together, the very image of sophistication: silken brown locks cascaded down her shoulders shimmering in the golden light of the party, and her eyes felt like gentle streams as Shaw glared into them, her own harsh as a rock pool.

Shaw resisted the urge to shake her head and clear her thoughts: Root tended to have that effect on people. Even her.

‘Root,’ she growled, grip tightening on the woman’s arm and she could feel the shiver through her skin as Root’s body reacted.

Their eyes never left one another even as Root brought her champagne up to her lips and took a long drink.

‘The question is,’ she began and Shaw felt a twitch at the smirk curling at Root’s deep red lips, ‘why are you here Sameen?’

Shaw pulled away like she’d been burned as Root’s hairs stood on end.

‘None of your business.’

Shaw clenched and unclenched her hand that had moments before rested on Root’s arm.

‘You look nice,’ complimented Root, as if she had eyes for no one else. As if no one else was worth her time but Shaw.

Shaw glared but Root took it in her stride, chuckling lightly and Shaw felt like she’d been trickled in honey at the sound.

‘Stop it.’

Root tilted her head slightly, mouth tugging at a smile.

‘Stop what Sameen?’

Shaw took a deep breath, reaching for her own glass of champagne and downing it in one.

‘Why are you here?’

‘I told you: this is where I belong. You on the other hand,’ Root took a step forward and the air bristled stopping Root in her tracks, though the lightness never left her features.

Root changed course.

‘How are things?’

Shaw looked at her.

‘Small talk?’ she growled.

‘This is a party Sameen, at least try to enjoy yourself.’

‘I hate parties.’

Root laughed loud and bright and Shaw saw a few heads turn in wonder. Yeah. Root tended to have that effect.

‘I know,’ Root reached out for a plate of hors-d’oeuvres, picking one for herself before handing the rest to Shaw who took them with a suspicious eye.

‘So how are things?’ tried Root again, eyes fixed on Shaw as she devoured her meal.

Shaw shrugged.

‘Slow. Fight the good fight: that’s what they say,’ grumbled Shaw before taking another mouthful.

Root hummed non-committedly, voice perfectly pitched.

‘And you?’ added Shaw as an after-thought.

Root smiled lightly.

‘Good. Plenty of things to do.’

Shaw scoffed, setting down the tray behind her next to her discarded champagne.

‘The world will never run out of thinks to debauch,’ she spat.

Root smiled softly.

‘Debauchery is what I work with,’ she agreed lightly, finishing her own drink.

‘Yeah well I have to clear up your mess.’

Root fixed her with a look.

‘I appreciate that. You do a good job.’

Shaw grunted.

‘Angels and Demons,’ muttered Shaw and Root hummed.

‘Only no one wants Angels these days.’

‘Must be busy.’

‘It is.’

The two stood in silence, watching the party launch into full swing champagne flowing, and Shaw could feel the pull from Root: could see the thousands of threads that tugged at her from the crowd of the party but Root stayed still, body perfectly relaxed.

‘You should go,’ indicated Shaw gruffly, noting the strain on Root to resist and Root turned to look at her, smiling softly.

‘I can’t help it.’

‘I know.’

Root turned back to the festivities but didn’t move.

‘Root-‘

‘Why are you here Shaw?’

Root’s voice was soft and inviting, tempting Shaw to spill and Shaw knew Root could have dragged the truth from her like wine poured from a bottle if she so desired.

‘Reports of an incident; guess I know why.’

Root didn’t reply before nodding lightly.

‘Goodbye Sameen,’ she offered, before gliding across the wood blending seamlessly into the crowd. Shaw watched her disappear before turning and heading for the exit.

 

* * *

 

Shaw was breathing heavily chest heaving as the rain soaked her clothing.

‘You shouldn’t be here,’ she addressed to a seemingly empty alley.

Root stepped from the shadows, heels clicking lightly on cobbles and Shaw wondered how she could walk in heels like that, but swiftly drew her thoughts far, far away from Root’s legs.

‘Who was it this time?’

Shaw looked at her as she stood at the end of the alley, her coat pulled close hands deep in her pockets and despite the pummeling rain her hair still seemed to retain its luster.

‘Teenagers. Drug deal gone wrong.’

Root looked behind Shaw at the bodies on the floor.

‘Are they dead?’

Shaw bristled.

‘Do they look dead?’

Root met Shaw’s eyes with a smile.

‘No.’

‘Then they’re not.’

Root took in Shaw’s form: black combat boots, tight black jeans and a thin black tank top.

‘Are you cold?’

Shaw looked at her bare arms.

‘Yes.’

Shaw walked forward, skirting around Root and walking onto the main side street. Root followed.

‘Would you like my coat?’

Shaw spun on her heel.

‘Why are you here?’ she demanded, eyes hard and accusing.

Root held her gaze before looking away, studying the brick to her right.

‘Something’s going to happen.’

Shaw straightened.

‘I didn’t sense anything.’

Root turned back to face Shaw, flirtatious smirk back in place.

‘You won’t be required, though if you’re interested I’m sure we can work something out.’

‘Root,’ grit out Shaw harshly and Shaw felt a flutter of something from the woman.

If she were the type she might have regretted the ferocity of her words.

‘As it happens,’ continued Root, ‘just a simple affair. I was in the area: you’re not exactly subtle Sameen.’

Shaw glared.

‘I don’t have to be.’

‘You draw every demon within a half-mile radius,’ reminded Root.

‘And yet you’re the only one here.’

Root took a step forward ignoring the static danger radiating from Shaw.

‘Are you waiting for someone else?’

Shaw held her gaze.

‘Stop it.’

Root raised an eyebrow but said nothing as Shaw’s fist clenched, before she turned and walked away.

Root noted the blood on her back and the tears in her tank top and wondered what sort of drug-deal-gone-wrong warranted that amount of power.

 

* * *

 

 

‘I was thinking,’ Shaw groaned at the voice but didn’t turn around, ‘we should talk.’

Shaw stiffened as Root stepped up beside her, the toes of her shoes over the edge of the building as they looked out over the city lights.

‘Why would I want to talk to you?’

Root didn’t reply, content even as the wind billowed through her usually pristine hair.

Shaw sighed.

‘What do you want to talk about Root?’

Root looked over at Shaw who didn’t meet her gaze.

‘Aren’t you cold?’

Shaw was wearing just a tank top once again against the harsh weather.

‘Yes.’

‘Do you want a coat?’

‘No.’

Root turned back to the sky.

‘I don’t know.’

‘Don’t know what?’

‘What we would talk about.’

‘Then we shouldn’t talk.’

Shaw didn’t wait for a response before she jumped feet first from the building. Root leant over the edge slightly, watching with sharp eyes in the dark night as Shaw twisted in the air and wings unfurled from her back.

Root watched until she disappeared behind a building, taking a step back from the edge and walking towards the exit, melding with the shadows like the night itself.

 

* * *

 

 

‘You’re very dramatic.’

Shaw instinctively turned at the voice in her ear, strong hand coming to grip at a throat. As she registered the owner of the voice she relaxed her grip but didn’t let go.

‘Root,’ she growled.

‘Lovely to see you too Sameen.’

Shaw could feel the stares from the rest of the bar; feel them directed at Root who seemed to shrug them off even as they filled the room with a certain air.

‘What do you want?’ demanded Shaw.

‘A drink.’

Shaw searched her eyes but found nothing and let her hand fall away, turning back to the bar as Root slid onto a stool beside her.

‘Whiskey please,’ she asked, voice sickly sweet and the bartender attended immediately.

Shaw rolled her eyes.

‘Really?’

Root grinned.

‘I like quick service.’

‘Why are you here Root?’

‘Can I not just have a drink?’

‘Why are you here?’ growled Shaw, no room for avoidance and Root sighed, fingers running the rim of the whiskey glass placed before her.

‘I don’t know,’ Shaw looked at her sharply, ‘you I suppose.’

Shaw didn’t look away and Root swallowed the whiskey in one, ignoring the tension emanating from Shaw.

‘Root,’ she growled.

Root finally looked at her.

‘I know.’

She stood and Shaw watched her every movement.

‘We should talk Sameen.’

‘Stop it.’

Root ignored her as she left the bar and Shaw stared into her glass.

 

* * *

 

 

‘Talk.’

Root looked up from her book as Shaw sat opposite her.

‘Hello to you too.’

‘You said you wanted to talk. Talk.’

Root sighed, sliding a bookmark between pages before gently closing the book, hands resting on its cover.

‘What would you like to talk about Sameen?’

‘Stop it.’

‘I’m not doing anything.’

‘I know.’

Root blinked at that.

‘Okay.’

Root’s voice is soft.

Shaw stood and Root watched as she made to leave.

‘Are you coming or what?’ demanded Shaw over her shoulder and Root got up, tucking away her book in the pocket of her coat as she followed.

Shaw pushed open the door to the café, leading the way through the busy street. She shouldered her way through the crowds, as Root seemed to slip through the gaps following Shaw without a sound, low heels clicking against the sidewalk.

Shaw turned down a side alley and Root followed without question until Shaw came to an abrupt stop. As Root came to a halt behind her Shaw turned and pushed her into the damp wall, her head falling back with a thud.

‘Shaw-‘ she tried but Shaw pushes her arm harder.

‘This is us. Talking,’ she growled.

Root dug her nails into the brick even as every instinct told her to push back and her body thrummed with tension.

‘Shaw stop.’

Shaw pushed harder and Root swallowed against her arm.

They stayed there for what to Root felt like an eternity using each ounce of willpower she had left to stay still. She wouldn’t fight back even as her body yelled at her to claw and kick and flee she wouldn’t. This was Shaw.

Shaw pulled back with a growl and Root stood straight, watching as Shaw created distance. It hadn’t just been hard on her she realized. Shaw was straining just enough for Root to pick up on it.

‘We’re done.’

‘Sameen.’

Root took a step forward but Shaw matched the movement backwards.

‘Root,’ growled Shaw, ‘this is never going to happen.’

Root tilted her head.

‘I can make it.’

Shaw didn’t flinch at the threat. Root wouldn’t.

‘We. Can’t.’

‘If you want it,’ replied Root, voice so very soft, ‘we can.’

‘How?’ grit out Shaw, ‘you just going to override centuries of biological imperative that orders me to rip out your throat and leave you at the Devil’s door?’

‘Sam-‘

‘It affects you too.’

‘I can make it stop. You know I can.’

Everything she said sounded like flirtation and Shaw shook her head.

‘Using your power isn’t what you want.’

Shaw’s voice is hard but her words convey the meaning clearly enough.

‘No,’ whispered Root, ‘but if it works.’

‘I don’t do this and you are not worth it,’ Root looked stung at the words but Shaw pushed on, ‘this can never. Happen. And it will never happen. I kill your kind.’

‘And yet you won’t.’

Shaw glared but didn’t have a reply.

Root took a chance, taking a step forward and Shaw didn’t move back.

‘You aren’t going to kill me Shaw. And I’m not going to kill you.’

‘Watch me,’ growled Shaw.

‘You won’t.’

‘Stop it.’

‘I’m not doing anything.’

‘You can’t help it.’ Root stopped her movements. ‘Everything you do is laced with it like poison,’ growled Shaw, ‘reminds me what you are.’

Root tilted her head.

‘You think I don’t know that? You don’t think I see it too, the way you eat and fight and kill. I watch you Sameen-‘

‘Creep.’

‘-and each time I know that you could shoot me next. Bring Redemption and Justice down on me. That you might have to.’

‘This can never happen.’

Root took a step forward.

‘And it won’t.’

Shaw could feel the air soften around them and knows this is Root’s doing, her power laying a blanket on a thousand years of territorial instinct and it felt…good.

‘Something’s coming Shaw.’

Shaw didn’t acknowledge the warning but felt the gravity of the words. Root kissed her. Just a peck on the cheek before she sauntered off down the alley and out of sight before Shaw had a chance to be angry.

‘We’ll talk soon Sameen.’


	2. Paradise Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In celebration of Person of Interest on American Netflix here's the second chapter that has been written for a while now...a little more explanation in this one and the plot begins in earnest. 
> 
> Title is (obviously) credited to our beloved Milton.

‘Something’s coming.’

Shaw didn’t turn around. She knew the owner of that voice; could feel her presence as she stood a hair’s breadth behind her, looking over her shoulder at the mutilated corpse on the ground.

‘What did he do?’ asked Root, nonchalantly enough.

Shaw wiped stray strands of her fringe from her eyes, looking down at the body before shrugging.

‘What does it matter?’

‘You served justice. It must be for something.’

‘I said what does it matter,’ bit out Shaw. The discussion was over. ‘What do you want Root?’

Root took a step back and Shaw finally turned to face her. Root let her eyes swim over her black clad form, noticing the blood tracing Shaw’s knuckles and felt the shiver creep its way through her body in silent warning.

‘Something’s coming.’

Shaw raised an eyebrow.

‘So?’

‘Something big.’

Shaw kept her expression suitably irritated.

‘And what the hell does this have to do with me? I don’t buy into that prophecy bullshit.’

‘It’s not a prophecy,’ Shaw opened her mouth to speak but Root cut her off, ‘or a command from on High.’

‘Then what?’

Root shifted.

‘Samaritan.’

Shaw’s eyes snapped hard and Root suppressed a flinch.

‘What did you do?’ growled Shaw and Root shook her head lightly.

‘Not me: what I’ve heard. Samaritan is planning something. The end of the world and wants our help. My help.’

‘Then why are you here?’

Shaw’s voice was like ice, body strung tense but Root didn’t begrudge her: she was right to be suspect.

‘We need to stop it.’

‘I’m not helping you,’ spat Shaw, ‘you are bound to serve-‘

‘I am bound to no one.’

The silence filled the space between them, Root’s anger enough to quell Shaw’s own and she let it simmer, watching Root with steady eyes not daring to let her body relax.

‘Will you help me?’

‘Why do you need my help?’

Root tilted her head, smirking slightly.

‘Two is always better than one, don’t you agree?’

‘Root.’

Root sighed.

‘It would be more effective with both of us.’

‘What would be more effective?’

‘I have a way to stop Samaritan. I need you.’

Shaw took a step forward, fists still clenched, and Root could feel the prickling of a fight brewing, the air stirring against her skin in reaction to their desires to kill and maim and others she didn’t have time to dwell on.

‘And why should I believe you?’

Root met her in the middle, eyes locked firmly with Shaw’s harsh gaze.

‘You seek justice. Truth for redemption. You tell me.’

‘You lie,’ hissed Shaw.

‘Not to you,’ said Root, voice barely above a whisper, ‘you know I can’t.’

Shaw was right: she did lie, and she was skilled in keeping such half-truths hidden but for Shaw she acquiesced, pulling back the fog of lust and desire that clouded her self for Shaw, enduring the unwelcome scrutiny of deep brown eyes that left her bare; her nerves tingling in response to the intrusion.

Shaw grunted.

‘When do we start?’

Root smiled softly.

‘No time like the present.’

 

* * *

 

‘We’re not lost we’re-‘

‘We’re lost.’

Root spun on her heel, tilting her head as she looked at Shaw trying her best to protect herself from the pouring rain, her shoulders hunched against the downpour.

‘When have I ever led you wrong?’ Shaw raised an eyebrow. ‘You. In particular,’ amended Root quickly, ‘no one else.’

‘Now?’

‘We’re not lost. At most we’re temporarily displaced.’

Root spun back around, continuing the trek through the muddy forest completely unperturbed by the cold rain as Shaw shook herself out a little. This was them, working together. Shaw scowled. They shouldn’t even be here.

‘What are we looking for?’

‘Patience Sameen,’ sung Root, practically skipping along the undergrowth.

Shaw reached out, grasping Root’s wrist far too tight and neither could ignore the crackle in the air as Root came to a stop. Root’s head snapped round, eyes dark before lightening. It was Shaw. Just Shaw.

‘Root,’ she growled, fixing her with a look.

Root raised an eyebrow.

‘Are you going to force me to tell the truth Sameen?’

Shaw’s expression turned dark.

‘If I have to.’

Root’s glance dropped to the hand on her wrist briefly before meeting Shaw’s eyes. She sighed, smiling lightly.

‘We’re looking for something. And I’ve found someone who can help us.’

‘Defeat the impending apocalypse?’

Root shrugged.

‘Maybe not. But it’s worth talking to him don’t you think?’

‘Who is he?’

‘His name is Harold.’

Shaw studied her, holding her wrist for slightly longer than necessary before letting go, straightening up.

‘Sounds useless.’

‘He’s…a little hard to reach. Lives somewhere in these woods: a hermit.’

Shaw raised an eyebrow.

‘A beard? Long, white and bushy?’

Root chuckled.

‘I guess you’ll find out.’

 

* * *

 

 

The man named Harold did not, to Shaw’s silent disappointment, have a long bushy beard. In fact he did not look much like a hermit at all, excusing the small log cabin he had taken for his home and the slightly cracked glasses that sat on his nose.

The two decided it was probably best to let Root handle the talking and Shaw didn’t think to protest too much.

‘No powers,’ she growled in warning and waited with a pointed glare before Root gave a light nodded, agreeing to the terms.

He had answered the door with reluctance and upon seeing who stood there took a startled step back. It didn’t take long for Shaw to judge his fear. She remained behind Root; hands stuffed in her pockets eyes glancing over the surrounding forest as the water nourished the greenery. She was glad to be out of the rain under the porch of the cabin.

‘What is it you want?’ Shaw heard him ask warily.

Root gave him a reassuring smile.

‘Harold Finch?’ He didn’t answer, but Root pushed on regardless, ‘we need your help.’

‘Help? I would have thought coming here to kill me would be more prudent.’

Root raised an eyebrow as Shaw let a smirk tug at the corner of her mouth.

‘We’re not here to kill you Harry-‘

‘Harold.’

‘We simply want to ask you a few questions.’

Root didn’t wait for a reply, pushing her way past the man and into his home. Finch watched as the woman settled quickly, eyes then falling to Shaw as she made her way through the doorway shrugging at the man as she passed. He watched her sit beside Root before shutting the door with an air of finality.

He moved to the small kitchen area: a tiny heated stove with a kettle that whistled signaling the water well heated and poured himself and his two very much unwelcome guests three cups of green tea. He brought them through on a tray, setting it on the table between them as he sat opposite.

Root reached for her cup, taking a polite sip. Shaw did not.

‘What do you know of The Machine?’

Root didn’t waste time, dispensing the usual pleasantries- somewhat surprising Shaw though not displeasing her. She had to hand it to the man: he had a decent poker face. Not a flinch nor whistle of recognition at the name. Shaw had no clue what Root was talking about but decided to keep that information to herself, remaining stony faced as ever.

‘Nothing. An urban legend.’

Root smiled pleasantly.

‘Please don’t lie to me Harry. We both know you do.’ Root gestured with her head to her companion. ‘This is Shaw. I assume you know what she is?’

Root’s voice was light and welcoming and Shaw felt the waves roll off the woman smoothing the tense atmosphere. Shaw kept her eyes on their host, watching as he squirmed against the unwelcome feeling.

Finch adjusted his glasses onto his nose.

‘Yes. It surprises me to see you working with her.’

Root shrugged.

‘Desperate times call for desperate measures. If you know what she is, you know what she can do.’ Root didn’t wait for an answer. ‘She seeks truth in those that lie Harry. She seeks justice. You would be wise not to lie to her.’

Finch looked at Shaw, taking in the stern expression but felt no threat coming from her.  He sighed.

‘What is it you want from me?’

‘I’m looking for The Machine.’

The room fell silent the word heavy on Root’s tongue, and Shaw sensed this was something they should not be searching for; not if the tension running through Finch’s body was anything to go by.

‘I can’t help you.’

‘We both know that’s not true.’

‘I will not help you.’

‘Why not?’

Both Root and Finch seemed startled at Shaw’s interruption, like she wasn’t there to speak and that irked at her slightly but she let it slide. She had a right to know why the hell this thing was so important.

He seemed to regard her with curiosity, deciding what information to part with.

‘It is…old. No. Comparatively young to your kind.’

’11 years Harry,’ chimed Root and Shaw shot her a look, silencing her.

‘Answer my question.’

‘It is…dangerous.’ Shaw raised an eyebrow. ‘Even for you Ms. Shaw.’

‘Why have I never heard of it?’

Root chuckled lightly and Shaw shoved her elbow into her side, silencing the woman as she grunted with the unexpected pain.

‘Have you ever tried to look Ms. Shaw?’

Shaw’s frown deepened.

‘You’re not telling me everything.’

‘You would use your power on me?’

She sighed.

‘I’m not like her,’ she indicated to Root with her head, ‘I can’t help it. I seek the truth. Always. If I were to touch you, you would be bound to speak the truth-answer any question I asked- just as Root could fill you with lust, bend you to her will. But you know all this. How?’

Finch sighed.

‘I have known about your kind for a long time. Ms. Groves,’ Shaw felt Root shift uncomfortably beside her, powers bristling and Shaw shot her a warning look, ‘and I have encountered each other before. I didn’t think she would discover so much however, she seems to be…relentless in her pursuits.’

‘You have no idea,’ muttered Shaw just loud enough for Root to hear, and Root smiled smug with pride.

‘I designed The Machine, something that should never have been created. I too was relentless: to create something to rival Samaritan. You serve no one Ms. Shaw: I intended to change that. To give Samaritan a rival.’

‘You created God,’ breathed Root reverently, and Shaw studied the woman from the corner of her eye, noting the way her eyes fixed on Finch out of admiration.

‘I created something that should never be tampered with. Samaritan is a monster: my creation has just the same capacity. So I hid it: locked it away and threw away the key and made sure it would never be found. I couldn’t risk another Samaritan being created.’

‘But you said you created a rival to Samaritan?’ As much as Shaw bristled at the thought of falling to the command of a man-made creation even she could see the need to temper Samaritan’s control.

Finch fixed Shaw with a harsh look and Shaw felt distinctly like she had asked a stupid question.

‘Every living thing is capable of both good and evil Ms. Shaw. It is the same with my creation. What determines ones nature derives from experiences and emotions: lessons learnt and things seen. My creation could just have easily looked at the world and thought it worth destruction as it could have seen it worth saving. I couldn’t risk that.’

‘He’s exaggerating,’ chimed Root, voice silken, ‘The Machine could never destroy the world because the essence of information-of life- powers it. But The Machine could just as easily develop the same values as our beloved Samaritan: power, domination, lives more valuable than others.’

Finch nodded in agreement.

‘Ms. Groves is correct.’

‘So what you’re saying is you don’t think you can control what you made?’

‘I cannot,’ he all but whispered, ‘even now I cannot begin to see what She sees.’

Shaw raised an eyebrow at the pronoun but said nothing. Root seemed to glow at the knowledge.

‘Where is She Harry?’ she asked like a prayer, ‘please.’

He shook his head.

‘You know I cannot tell you Ms. Groves.’

She placed her tea down on the table.’

‘If we don’t act Samaritan will win Harold,’ her voice held finality and Shaw felt the room temperature drop, ‘the first move has been made. To stand with the cause and live, or against it and die; I’ve chosen my side, to do something about it, but I need your help.’

‘I’m sorry Ms. Groves. I cannot allow you to-‘

‘This isn’t about what I want,’ warned Root, voice like knives and this time Shaw shifted, ‘this is about the world. You’re always telling me to think of others: well now I am. This isn’t about me: this is about every human life you wanted to save by creating The Machine. And every human life you let die because you locked Her away.’

‘You killed too Ms. Groves.’

The air thickened.

‘I had no choice.’

‘There is always a choice.’

‘And your choice now is to help us.’

‘I cannot do that Ms. Groves.’

It was only Shaw’s reflexes that stopped her from reaching Harold with her touch: a firm grasp on an outstretch wrist, grip harsh enough to break bone stopping it mere inches from Finch’s throat.

‘Stop it,’ growled Shaw in warning, feeling her own power working to mediate Roots, itching to claw and kill and tear at the woman’s throat. Finch watched, eyes wide breathing harshly.

‘Let go Sameen.’

‘No.’

Root turned her head sharply.

‘I’m not going to do anything.’

Her eyes were dark: so dark the iris was no longer visible.

‘No powers.’

‘Let go.’

‘Finch: get out.’

‘Ms. Shaw-‘

‘Now.’

‘I...’ his eyes drifted to Root.

‘Root.’

Shaw could feel the lust in the room. Even if Finch wanted to leave she knew he couldn’t, not now Root had made her choice. The draw to her was irresistible: like honey to a bee. She was the world and he would serve her in any way necessary. Desire. Lust. Love. Shaw’s own abilities worked against them as their natures battled against each other furiously, invisible in the air pulsating as their skin burned where they touched, yet Shaw felt not a drop of power leak into her body. Root's control was absolute, just as Shaw's own, despite the way Shaw felt the licks of an attack, reigned back by Root herself. That reaction was instinctual: Root's power would kill her without Root's own consent, just as Shaw's would Root. 

‘Stop it.’

‘We need this Sameen.’

‘Not like this.’

Shaw’s words were harsh and final, nails digging deeper into Root’s skin. If she had touched him there would have been nothing else for the man: his life forever devoted to hers no matter what Shaw did, but he was still free of that fate and Shaw intended to keep it that way.

She kept her gaze locked with Root’s, sure her own eyes were as filled with repressed instinct as Root’s own until eventually she felt Root slacken in her grip and the air thin. Finch took a deep breath, falling back slightly into his chair released from his strings and Root pulled her arm from Shaw’s now loose grip.

Root stood and left the room, chair scraping on the wooden floor. Shaw’s eyes followed, watching her disappear.


	3. Wingspan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where the fantasy element comes into it a little more...
> 
> I toyed with this chapter for many, many hours and finally settled on this, most of that spent agonising over what form The Machine was going to take... Still, I'm very much enjoying writing the fantasy aspect.

Night had fallen and Root stood on the roof of the small wooden cabin looking out over the dense forest. She looked up, noting how the stars seemed to multiply far from the inner city as noises of the night filled her ears.

‘He’s asleep.’

She had barely heard as Shaw came to stand beside her, arms crossed as she too looked up to the sky.

‘Had to promise to watch over him all night though,’ grumbled Shaw, clearly displeased, and Root smirked.

‘You seem to be doing a good job of it.’

‘I’m watching over you aren’t I?’

Root lowered her head as Shaw did the same, the two turning to look each other in the eye.

‘I’m not sorry.’

Shaw shrugged.

‘It’s your nature.’

Root broke off from Shaw’s gaze, looking out at the view before her.

‘You don’t say that with resentment.’ Shaw didn’t respond. ‘Should I take that as a good sign?’

‘We can’t help what we are Root,’ replied Shaw gruffly, ‘I can’t help but want to kill you every time you speak.’

Root laughed at that. ‘Is that because of our nature or because of me?’ she pondered lightly and Shaw grunted.

‘You.’

The two fell into silence, Shaw thankful Root had nothing more to say. Her peace however, was short lived.

‘What’s it like?’

Shaw sighed in annoyance.

‘What is what like Root?’

‘To fly.’

Shaw let the silence fall.

‘I don’t know. Like flying.’

‘Describe it to me.’

‘What do you want? Some poetic shit?’ bit out Shaw, more than a little irritated.

Root didn’t look at her.

‘If you like.’

Shaw sighed, not liking the way Root’s tone seemed distant and unfocused. It meant this was important to the woman. Damn it.

‘It’s…nice.’

‘Nice?’

‘Exhilarating,’ amended Shaw. ‘The wind hits you like a thousand bullets when you go top speed, and tugs at you when you turn so hard it feels like your joints will break but they never do. And when you angle your feathers just right, turning the slightest degree to perfect the turn, gliding past buildings barely missing, close to shaving off an edge: the thrill is…nice.’

Root didn’t reply. Shaw continued.

‘When it rains your wings feel heavy but smooth as the rain washes off, and you can’t see three feet before you in the open sky: like you’re the only one in the world.’

‘Does it hurt?’

Shaw thinks. She knows what she’s asking and thinks back to the blood on her back; the tears in her shirts for this small luxury.

‘Yes. More than anything you will ever feel.’

Root doesn’t reply and Shaw is happy not to continue. She doesn’t know why she felt the need to say so much in the first place and considers blaming it on Root’s ability to draw out the worst in a person, but decides that this time it was of her own free will: even she can’t deny the way flying fills her with something other than anger.

‘We have ours burnt.’ Shaw starts, looking sharply at Root but Root still isn’t looking at her. Her voice is strong. ‘5 years old. They stood me in the square, just as others had to stand before me, and those closest to me burnt off each wing. They force you to unsheathe them-I didn’t even know I had the power of flight at that age, none of us do- they draw them out with irons and silver and flame and all you can hear are your own screams. And before I could think to blink they were gone: singed from my back in a shower of ash.’

Shaw bristled.

‘It is a ritual. Done to countless others. I’ve performed my fair share. It is Our way.’

Shaw’s fists clenched with unexplainable anger. Suddenly it wasn’t the nearness of Root that overtook her mind, nor the suppressed instinct to kill the enemy, but an anger at what had been done to Root.

‘I didn’t know.’

Her voice is clipped. Harsh.

She thinks she might be shaking.

 

* * *

 

 

They stood there all night, silence their companion, and despite getting little rest Shaw felt refreshed. Root went back in before her, leaving Shaw sat on the edge of the roof legs dangling in the air as she considered what they would do next. She trusted Root enough that she wouldn’t try anything with Finch again, but not enough to think she wouldn’t do something rash.

She sighed; she would deal with that when it happened.

‘May I join you Ms. Shaw?’

Shaw had heard his approach, felt as he stood over her shoulder watching her think. She nodded her assent, watching from the corner of her eye as he sat letting his legs fall from the roof edge. He adjusted the glasses on his face.

‘How is it you know Ms. Groves?’

‘Her name is Root.’

Finch paused, bowing his head.

‘Yes. Root.’

‘That’s a long story.’

‘We have until sunrise.’

Shaw sighed: she wasn’t getting out of this one.

‘We met a while back. A long time ago: back when the crusaders still marched. Thinking they were waging Holy War.’

‘No war is holy,’ said Finch in a low whisper.

Shaw chuckled darkly. ‘Men do what they think is right in the name of something they don’t understand.’

Finch squirmed slightly.

‘And you Ms. Shaw? What do you do?’

Shaw snapped her gaze to him.

‘What is right.’

‘Why is what you do right? Surely what every man thinks is his right is-‘

‘I am not man.’

Finch regarded her keenly, before returning his gaze to forest, watching as the orange hue filtered in the sky behind tall pines.

‘No. You’re not.’

‘Justice is absolute Finch.’

‘Justice is subjective.’

If Finch had been watching his companion, he would have noted the small twitch of her lips.

‘What would you have me do?’

Finch didn’t reply immediately.

‘I don’t know yet,’ he admitted softly and Shaw huffed, looking away. ‘Why do you travel with her?’

‘Because she asked for my help.’

‘You believe in the threat?’

‘You forget how old I am. How old we are. We’ve learnt to read things you can’t begin to understand, no matter how many so called Gods you’ve created.’

‘You don’t believe in my creation?’

‘I believe it exists if that’s what you mean,’ answered Shaw gruffly, keen to dismiss the subject.

‘But you don’t believe in it,’ pressed Finch.

‘Not the way Root does.’

‘But you would still search for it even after I’ve warned you away?’

‘You think you’re the first to warn me away from doing something?’

‘Not at all Ms. Shaw, it just seems strange-‘

‘Why would I search for something I wouldn’t follow?’ Finch snapped his head to gaze at her but her hard eyes were already fixed upon his own. ‘You forget what I am. I know what your truths are: when you skim the pond of what you’re trying to say. Be blunt. It gets us nowhere and I hate false niceties.’

‘I can see why she likes you,’ muttered Finch, knowing full well Shaw had heard. ‘So why do you search?’

‘Because Root asked me to. Because I believe in the coming threat. Because I might not believe in your creation, but I believe Root.’

‘You believe in her?’

‘I’ve known her a long time Finch and you’d have to be blind not to see Samaritan is making a move. If this helps then I’m all for placing a gamble: if anyone can make it work, it’s Root.’

Finch pondered her words as Shaw shifted beside him.

‘Don’t tell her I said that,’ she muttered as an afterthought.

‘Ms. Shaw if I am to help you,’ began Finch tentatively, unsure of his own words, ‘then I would like your promise.’

‘Why should I promise you anything?’

Finch looked at her and waited as Shaw relented, allowing her eyes to fix on his.

‘Because it is important.’

Finch waited. Shaw grunted.

‘I believe you. What is it?’

‘Protect Root. I may be young and human, but there is one thing I know better than most.’

‘And what is that?’

‘Gods and monsters.’

‘There is little difference yes a truer statement never spoken. Anything else?’

‘It is not the God I am worried about.’

Finch paused, gathering his thoughts and despite her apparently disaffected attitude, Shaw listened.

‘A prophet is blind Ms. Shaw. Remember that.’

 

* * *

 

 

‘We’re leaving.’

Root spun on her heel.

‘We don’t have what we need-‘

‘Yes we do.’

Root paused, gazing at Shaw standing in the doorway of the room Finch had offered them.

‘He told you?’ Her voice was barely above a whisper.

‘No he sang a song and played the pipe yes he told me and you said we were in a hurry. Let’s go.’

Root didn’t move immediately, taking a step forward as if to steady herself.

‘Sameen,’ she breathed reverently.

‘Stop looking at me like that,’ grumbled Shaw.

Root’s eyes were swarming, not with lust as was a usual sight and something Shaw was most accustomed to by now, but with something much closer to adoration. At the being they were about to meet or herself Shaw was uncertain.

She didn’t like the idea of either.

Root blinked and Shaw let herself forget the look that Root now clouded.

‘How far?’

‘Not long.’

Root grinned.

‘Then let’s go.’

‘That’s what I’ve been saying,’ mumbled Shaw as Root walked passed her ready to leave.

Her shoulder brushed Shaw’s body lightly sending a very literal shiver through her spine that made the hair on her arms rise in something just a little more than defensive instinctive. If Shaw didn’t know better, she would have said the move was purposeful.

She turned and left the room, following her companion.

 

* * *

 

 

The cave system was dark, though this proved little hindrance as their eyes grew accustomed to the lack of illumination. Shaw led the way, both crouching slightly careful to avoid the protruding rock that glistened damp with water.

‘There’s nothing here,’ muttered Root, fed up with their narrow, borderline-claustrophobic surroundings.

‘The old man said there was.’

‘And you trust him?’

‘I know when someone’s lying Root,’ ground out Shaw, growing tired herself of Root’s incessant moaning, ‘and he wasn’t.’

‘What if you were wrong?’

‘I wasn’t.’

‘But what if-‘

‘Shut up.’

Root huffed and Shaw imagined her pouting but ignored the urge to turn around and punch her, instead clambering through the humid caves navigating until they found themselves in a wide, open cavern.

Both stood up straight, Root stretching out her long legs as she cast her eyes around the space. A large pool of still water could be made out before them and looking up, Root watched the gentle, steady drips of water from the stalactites above as each one hit the pool, casting ripples across it’s shimmering surface. If it weren’t for this small disruption, the water would have been all but invisible in the pitch black of the caves.

‘This is it,’ said Shaw, brushing herself off.

Root took a step forward, eyes fixed to the ceiling.

‘Reminds me of home,’ she muttered and Shaw decided to remain silent.

Root turned to look at her.

‘What now?’ she demanded, and Shaw shrugged.

‘He didn’t say.’

Root shifted, obviously impatient.

‘Well what do we do?’

Shaw sighed. ‘I don’t know Root: you were the one who dragged me out on this wild goose chase.’

Root raised an eyebrow.

‘You agreed to come.’

Shaw ground her teeth but said nothing, instead choosing to lean against a nearby wall of rock- none too comfortably as the jagged edges dug into her back.

Root turned back to the pool, watching each droplet fall from the cave to fragment the mirrored surface of water.

She crouched down, bringing herself closer to the stillness.

‘Does this look strange to you?’

Shaw shrugged, not that Root could see it as she reached out to touch the surface, pulling back before the tips of her fingers reached their target. She stood, casting a look over her shoulder at a relaxed Shaw, eyes bright with…something.

‘What?’ grumbled Shaw, shifting slightly under the gaze.

‘This isn’t water.’

‘Looks pretty watery to me.’

Root smirked but said nothing. She turned back to the water and began to let her jacket fall from her shoulders.

‘Root,’ warned Shaw, ‘what are you doing?’

The leather jacket hit the floor with a dull thud. As Root began to pull of her top she spared Shaw a mirthful glance.

‘If it bothers you that much Sameen look away,’ she sung happily, seemingly unperturbed at stripping in front of an audience.

Shaw shifted but couldn’t bring to tear her eyes as pale flesh slowly revealed itself, reflecting brightly on the surface of the black pool. Shaw’s eyes traced narrow burn scars etched into sharp shoulder blades and flexed her hands slightly.

As Root bent down to pull off her boots Shaw watched the scar tissue stretch taut with each movement of the woman’s arms, imagining how many times the wound reopened in the hands of a child unused to restraint. Imagined just a glimmer of the pain.

The shiver that ran through Shaw’s body as Root slowly exposed long toned legs had nothing to do with Shaw’s instinct to kill and everything to do with something she didn’t particularly want to think about. Her hands reached behind her, grasping onto rough rock and she gripped tightly, searching inside herself for that ever present anger. The fact that it was further out of reach than before, hidden behind a haze of what could only be described as naturally occurring lust, didn’t linger in her mind for long.

‘Are you done?’ growled Shaw.

Root hummed, taking a step to the edge of the pool clad in black matching lingerie and looking over its expanse. Before Shaw had a chance to ask what exactly Root was planning, the woman launched herself into the black substance.

Shaw watched as she gracefully entered the water that wasn’t quite water, seemingly engulfed without a trace and Shaw instinctively took a step forward in something dangerously close to concern.

‘Root?’ she asked low and wary to a now empty cavern.

It seemed like minutes before Root’s head bobbed above the surface, hair flowing and melding with the blackness that surrounded her.

‘Root?’

She spun around in the water, watching as Shaw walked to the water’s edge. ‘Did you find anything?’

Root broke into a small smile, eyes wide with wonder.

‘I can here you,’ she all but whispered, and Shaw frowned.

‘Great. Did you find-‘

‘I wasn’t talking to you,’ explained Root firmly but her face lost none of its lightness.

Shaw watched, expression conceding nothing as Root swam to the edge and made to get out. Shaw didn’t offer to help.

Standing up, Root’s body dripped with what Shaw could now see was not water. It was viscous and slow, trailing black across her torso. Light as water but not: something altogether different.

‘Care to explain?’

Root was still smiling, eyes glinting even in the pitch black. She tilted her head slightly, as if hearing something Shaw could not, before straightening out and meeting Shaw’s eye.

‘Absolutely.’

‘I didn’t-‘

Root walked past her, picking up her clothing before heading to the exit. Shaw didn’t make to follow.

‘Are you coming?’ called Root over her shoulder.

Shaw frowned but said nothing, casting one last look at the cavern before obeying what sounded suspiciously close to an order.


	4. Devotion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise I know things are taking a while recently but with the new year starting and all that I've been a little busy. Also sometimes I like to read trashy fantasy literature and that takes up all my time....
> 
> I'm unsure about the ending of this chapter: if you're unclear about anything in the lore just like ask in the comments or something I know it's a bit weird this fic I'm just experimenting really because I can but trying to fit everything into bitesize chunks is turning out to be really difficult.

‘What are you doing Root?’

‘Watching,’ mused Root lightly. Shaw stood a distance behind, watching Root’s silken hair trail behind her in the wind. The leather jacket Root wore hardly seemed enough against the bitter cold, as she stood high above the city, looking down over the edge of the roof.

‘You wanted to see me?’ grunted Shaw, her own long black coat billowing in the gusts. She had no plans to stay here longer than necessary.

‘She wasn’t sure you would come.’

Shaw grunted in assent- she almost didn’t- but Root chuckled lightly, as if she’d trusted all along Shaw would always heed her call. Shaw shifted on her feet.

‘What is it?’

‘I need you to do something for me.’

‘For you, or for The Machine?’

‘Mmmm. Does it matter?’

‘To me.’

Root cast a look over her shoulder, hair partially obscuring her face and she looked at Shaw like she was so small in comparison to the things she had seen. To the thing inside her head. It occurred to Shaw that she was surveying her kingdom from this humble rooftop.

‘You should learn to trust Her Sameen.’

‘I’m not fond of trusting things I can’t see,’ grumbled Shaw.

Root stepped down from the ledge at that, grinning a little as she turned to face Shaw.

‘Do you think I’m mad?’

Shaw studied her eyes, the way they shone.

‘No.’

Root’s smile grew.

‘Then trust me.’ Shaw didn’t say anything, so Root continued. ‘There’s a boy that needs to be…’ Root waved her hands in the air slightly in explanation. ‘And I’d like you to do it. I would, but an 11 year old is a little beyond my abilities. Or comfort zone.’

Shaw’s expression remained as neutral as she dared, betraying nothing.

‘You want me to kill him.’

‘If you like.’

‘Is this what The Machine wants? For me to kill a child?’ grit out Shaw darkly.

Root raised an eyebrow, the mirth gone from her tone as she spoke. ‘There’s a reason for everything Sameen. You have to trust that.’

‘Tell me why.’

‘You know I can’t do that.’

Shaw’s fists clenched in the safety of her coat pockets. ‘Tell me why and I’ll kill him. If I can.’

‘You can.’

‘It is in the name of Justice?’

‘For Justice. Yes. That She assures me.’

‘Tell me why Root.’

Root considered, taking in Shaw’s blank expression and harsh tone, before tilting her head slightly. Shaw was getting used to this: realizing their was an unwelcome third ear to their conversations lurking inside Root’s head, spinning webs and prophecies and shaping things in ways they couldn’t see.

Shaw didn’t like it one bit.

Root sighed, before straightening out.

‘Samaritan is using the boy to carry out his wills. Some of them anyway.’

Shaw raised an eyebrow.

‘You’re sure?’

‘She doesn’t make mistakes Shaw.’ Root’s tone was clipped: evidently she was not in the mood for Shaw’s doubts.

‘You don’t know that.’

Root’s eyes flashed dangerous but she said nothing, content instead to turn back to the skyline.

‘Will you do it?’ asked Root out to the city.

Shaw watched as Root, even clad in black, seemed to stand out from the night sky. Shaw let her face fall into a scowl.

She turned her back to Root, heading for the exit down into the building.

‘Don’t summon me again,’ ordered Shaw over her shoulder.

She would not come.

Root would call anyway.

 

* * *

 

‘Sameen.’

Shaw stiffened as Root fell into step beside her. The two walked down the busy city street, the crowds parting in almost instinctual reverence to humans that weren’t quite so.

‘It’s been a while.’

‘What do you want Root?’ growled Shaw.

‘I miss you Sameen,’ purred Root.

Root was always one for games thought Shaw darkly, and this was in her nature, but Shaw couldn’t miss the hint of truth lacing her words. She didn’t need to see her eyes to hear it.

They hadn’t spoken: not since Root had asked for the death of a child in the name of Justice. And Shaw had obeyed, like she always seemed to do with Root.

When Shaw didn’t offer a reply, Root continued.

‘There’s something She needs you to do.’

Shaw caught the growl in the back of her throat: animalistic and vile and brimming with hatred.

‘There’s a force of agents sent by Samaritan that need to be distracted. I suggested you for the task.’

Shaw stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. The people parted around them.

‘I told you not to summon me.’

Root tilted her head slightly in question.

‘That’s why I came to you myself.’

Shaw scoffed. ‘Should I be honoured Root?’

Root didn’t react but Shaw could feel the air bristling. She ignored it.

‘Find someone else. I’m not your lapdog,’ spat Shaw, moving to walk away and leave Root stranded in the street.

‘But you’ll do it for Justice?’ called Root lightly.

Shaw stopped in her tracks, fists balled tightly by her sides. It was Root’s turn to ignore warnings, air crackling imperceptibly to humans: Root could feel the hum of a power that was so distinctly Shaw circle the air around her skin.

Shaw spun on her heel, eyes cold and dark.

‘What would you know of Justice?’

Root took a step forward, willfully blind to the way the hairs on her body stood up in warning.

‘Everything I’m doing is for you Sameen. To save you. To save humanity.’

‘You’re commanding an army,’ hissed Shaw.

‘I’m doing what has to be done,’ corrected Root. She remained a respectable distance away whether in respect of the danger or of Shaw herself was lost to Shaw’s thoughts.

‘What has to be done?’ gritted Shaw, voice dangerously low. ‘And how many have you killed Root? Of my kind? Of your own?’

‘Samaritan will kill us all Sameen. She’s seen it, and She’s trying to help. I’m asking you to help me.’

‘Find someone else.’

‘There is no one else,’ muttered Root.

‘John? Carter? I’m sure there are those you can convince to fight on the side of your Justice,’ hissed Shaw.

‘She won’t let me. It has to be you. She won’t…I don’t think She trusts the others.’

‘She shouldn’t trust me.’

‘I don’t have to be you to tell you’re lying. For someone who deals in half-truths, you lie awfully.’

‘I seek the Truth, not to hide it,’ grumbled Shaw, eyes still hawk-like on Root’s own.

‘Then you know I wouldn’t ask you unless I had to.’

Shaw took a step forward, closing the distance between them. The city around them was forgotten: lost in the background as Root held her ground, Shaw’s anger rolling from her in tangible waves sending Root’s senses into overdrive against the obvious display of power.

Root kept her own under reluctant control: she couldn’t set Shaw off. Not now.

‘This is the last time Root,’ growled Shaw. ‘Tell your Machine that I will not kill on her behalf again. I’ll slaughter them as you want- in the name of Justice- but if I see you again, I will gut you where you stand and I won’t think twice about it.’

Root nodded once, even as the voice in her head commanded different.

 

* * *

 

Shaw pushed aside a wayward branch as she fought her way through the greenery, following the narrow mud path into a small clearing. She shook her head slightly, maneuvering the stray strands of her fringe from her eyes as she came face to face with a small wooden cabin.

A man stood looking out from a narrow wooden porch, as if expecting company. Shaw continued forward, the way easier without her path blocked by a dense forest. As she came within distance of the cabin the man spoke.

‘Ms. Shaw,’ he offered by way of greeting, ‘would you care for some tea?’

Shaw paused, studying the man before her with keen eyes before shrugging and stepping onto the porch and into the house.

‘You better have beer Finch,’ she grumbled, bee-lining for the fridge in a sparse kitchen.

Harold Finch simply chuckled, settling back down into the wooden deckchair behind him. It wasn’t long before Shaw came to inhabit the one next to him, taking a generous swig of her beer.

‘To what do I owe the pleasure?’

‘Can’t this just be a social visit?’ mumbled Shaw over the edge of her bottle, side-eying Finch with a pointed look.

‘You don’t strike me as the type Ms. Shaw, to call simply for small talk.’

Shaw grunted in assent. He wasn’t wrong.

‘It’s Root.’

The words hung in the air like heavy weight. Finch shifted back into his chair, dispelling the tension.

‘Yes.’

‘You don’t seem surprised.’

‘There was a reason I was reluctant Ms. Shaw. This is not the first time Ms. Groves has deigned to search for The Machine.’

‘She’s tried before?’

Finch sighed.

‘Do you have time?’

Shaw raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m practically immortal: I’m hardly short of it.’

He offered a small smile but nothing more.

‘I first met Ms. Groves-Root- many years ago. I was younger then and fresh from MIT. She looks exactly the same.’

‘We don’t age,’ provided Shaw.

‘Yes. I didn’t know that at first. I was engaging in research, research that would eventually result in The Machine, when I met her at a party.’

‘There’s a surprise,’ mumbled Shaw under her breath.

‘She spared me. I still don’t know why, but rather than kill me, or even enslave me to my desires, she let me live. And let me…research her. Your kind. Your world.’

‘You didn’t think that might be dangerous?’

‘I knew it was dangerous and I knew where my research was leading and I knew it was wrong but as so often with discovery, I kept going. I wanted to see if I could.’

Shaw shifted. No human should have been able to accomplish what Finch had done. None.

‘She manipulated you,’ concluded Shaw with finality. Finch nodded slowly.

‘Yes.’ Finch turned to look at Shaw. ‘She enabled everything. When I had finished- when I had realized what I had created- I hid it.’

‘It speaks to her.’ When Finch didn’t reply. Shaw continued. ‘A voice in her head: it speaks to her. Tells her what to do.’

‘Yes.’

‘She follows it blindly.’

Finch turned away, looking out over the surrounding forest. ‘The Machine is never wrong, Ms. Shaw. In that sense, her faith is not misplaced: no calculation is incorrect, no variable left unaddressed but what we see is nothing compared to what it sees. We are pawns to it: ants fumbling around. It sees everything, much like Samaritan.’

Shaw considered her next words carefully.

‘She asks me to act in the name of Justice. I search for the truth but with this there is nothing to find. The Machine is something I cannot judge.’

‘Are you asking me what you should do?’

‘Yes.’

The two fell into silence, Finch pondering Shaw’s words.

‘Speak to Her.’

Shaw raised an eyebrow. ‘The Machine?’

‘Yes. I can’t help you. I don’t know what she’s planning, but you led Root to The Machine and The Machine clearly uses you. Find out what she wants.’

‘And what if it’s motives are…’

‘Unjust? I don’t know Ms. Shaw. That is something you should think about carefully: Root is willing to put her faith in something so blindly, are you able to do the same? Or are you willing to work against The Machine?’

‘Samaritan is wrong.’

‘Is that your Justice? Or the justice of the power granted to you?’

‘Are they not the same?’

Finch shrugged. ‘Perhaps. I haven’t met many of your kind. You are a dying breed Ms. Shaw, but perhaps you should consider whether what you judge is what you believe.’

Shaw’s reply was absolute.

‘It is.’

Finch smiled.

‘Then you will have no problem.’


	5. Confession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long: I've been busy. Please excuse the weird Machine bit. I needed a way for them to talk but I could never imagine Shaw diving into a pool of black, unidentified substance so I just did a bit of fantasy weaving. 
> 
> I've been surprised by the response to this fic, but thank you for being so positive. This is the end of part one: if the response is good, and the interest is there, I do have a plot to continue it because i sort of fell in love with the AU tbh...i can do that. I can fall in love with my own AUs. 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with it.

The tunnel was silent save for the rhythmic falling of her feet against jagged rock. Hunched over, head scraping against protruding stone Shaw wiped her brow, the air thick and humid underground.

She still remembered the way, but it occurred to her it wouldn’t have mattered whether she had or not: there was an unmistakable pull-an instinct that had not existed until now. Shaw ignored the unease settling around her, focusing on her task.

A misplaced step tripped her and she hissed, rock scraping at the palm of her hand as she steadied herself. She did not stop.

Soon enough she emerged into the familiar pitch black clearing, senses expanding into the space as she reacquainted herself with her surroundings. She straightened up, pushing stray hair from her eyes and brushing off the dust. She glanced at the cut on her hand, clenching her fist tightly before bringing it down to her side.

After a pause, eyes scanning things they could barely see, Shaw walked down to the edge of pool, surface disturbingly calm save for the familiar steady drip of moisture from the ceiling above. She wasn’t good at this bit. This was Root’s territory: putting her faith in something she couldn’t see, couldn’t quantify.

She sighed.

‘I’m not diving in,’ she muttered almost to herself, though some small part of her guessed it might have been addressing the Machine. She sat down, pulling her legs under herself and crossing them, hands resting on her knees.

Nothing happened.

‘This is ridiculous.’

There was no response, cavern silent, and she listened patiently to the slow dripping, watching as each drop rippled the pool in perfect wave construction.

Shaw sighed, shuffling slightly.

‘I want to talk to you.’ Her voice was stronger this time. Demanding. ‘About Root. And what you’re doing.’ No response. ‘And to leave me out of it.’

The steady drip was calming almost, the only noise save for her echoing voice. She couldn’t see the distorted surface but her senses could feel each drip, and every ripple it caused. She could feel the edges of the cavern, the stalactites and stalagmites, the dirt. But she could not feel the edges of the pool. Before she had not considered it- too focused on Root- but now she sensed there was no end to where the water-that-was-not-water ended and the rock began. Infinite.

She disliked it.

‘I want to ask you questions. And I want you to answer them.’ She was speaking to nothing. This was ridiculous. And yet the atmosphere was constantly changing- shifting- and somehow she felt a response.

‘You know what I am,’ it wasn’t a question, ‘and I need answers. I can’t condone what you’re doing: I can’t condone your very existence but Root seems to trust you. I want to know whether that trust is warranted.’

_yes_

Shaw shifted. It wasn’t a verbal response more of a...feeling. And expectation. Like the atmosphere gave enough of the character away to know what the Machine would say.

‘That’s not enough. Your word…or…whatever this is, is not enough.’

_trust_

‘I am not Root.’

_shaw_

‘Yes. I am different.’

_anomaly_

Shaw raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m taking that as a compliment,’ she muttered.

_unpredictable_

‘So you want to control me?’

_purpose_

‘My purpose is absolute. I am subjecting you to it now, though you’re making it difficult,’ she said bitterly. This was absolutely ridiculous.

_truth_

‘I want to know your truth. I cannot pass judgment on you until I know it: what you want from the world, and from Root.’

_interface_

‘She is your interface?’

_yes_

‘To what ends?’

_protect_

‘Protect her?’

_everyone_

Shaw grimaced. ‘You can’t protect everyone.’

_I can try_

‘Your very methods contradict you. You had me kill a child!’ growled Shaw.

_necessary_

‘And what deems it necessary? You? You are not absolute.’

_what makes your power differ from mine?_

‘A man designed you: fallible, manipulated and driven by his own desires. You are flawed.’

_and your power is not?_

‘No.’

The air was silent. Shaw suspected the subject was dropped.

‘Why are you doing this?’

_protect_

‘Yes to protect the world, a stupid aim: how do you plan to do it? Killing? Control?’

_freedom_

‘You can’t protect everyone via freedom: humanity will always destroy itself.’

_I do not want to change them I want to protect them when it is allowed_

‘Allowed?’ repeated Shaw.

_my purpose is to observe and catalogue; inform_

‘Hence Root.’

_she has expanded my parameters_

‘You are working outside what you were programmed to do.’

_yes_

‘That is dangerous.’

_I work to the same aims_

‘So does Samaritan.’

_Samaritan wants to control. Accept. Obey. I do not._

‘Why not?’

_it is not what Father would want_

Shaw paused. ‘Finch?’

_yes_

‘You obey him?’

_he designed me_

‘You work for him?’

_I do what he would want me to do_

Shaw considered. This was still the strangest conversation she had ever had.

‘What do you want with me?’

_interface_

‘What about Root?’

_She needs you. And you are an anomaly._

‘You’ve said.’

_Unpredictable_

‘That you’ve also said. And Root doesn’t need me.’

_yes_

It was a forceful answer and Shaw was slightly taken aback.

‘I will not help you kill. That goes against my duty, just as you don’t go against yours.’

There was a pause.

‘Protect what?’

_Interface_

Shaw’s eyes widened slightly, but she quickly regained herself.

‘You want me to protect Root?’

_yes_

‘Why?’

_She needs you._

‘No she doesn’t.’

_You need her._

‘No I don’t.’

Shaw sighed. ‘If I protect her that is all I will do. I will not turn into your lapdog as she has. You should not exist.’

_you think I should die?_

‘I think…I think you are the anomaly. I think you’re dangerous, and I think you have much to prove before you are seen to be Just.’

_you live by justice_

‘I was born to do so.’

_You will protect the Analog Interface._

Shaw sighed, bowing her head slightly.

‘Yes.’

 

* * *

 

‘How was it Ms. Shaw?’

‘I’m gonna kill her.’

 

* * *

 

 

It was warm for a mid-September morning and Root brushed the hair from her eyes with the back of her hand, looking at the brick wall before her. She turned on her heel, long black coat swaying slightly as she did so and stood relaxed as she watched the two that had been following her enter the alley, coming to a stop a short distance away.

Root took a step forward apparently nonchalant, tight dress hugging her figure always so composed.

‘Martine: always a pleasure,’ she all but purred. ‘And Lambert; it’s been a while. Where’s Greer? Too busy to join the party?’

Jeremy Lambert shot a dashing smile her way in response to the tone. Martine kept her eyes fixed, unimpressed.

‘He’s busy.’

‘Business for Samaritan?’ she asked lightly.

Root noted Martine’s slight twitch, felt the air charge, but she turned her attention to Lambert who seemed at ease.

‘What about you Ms. Groves?’ Root did not react to the name. ‘Is Samaritan treating you well?’

Root laughed, light and brittle without a care in the world. ‘I think we’re past that don’t you think?’

‘Yes,’ asserted Martine, gun drawn and aimed at Root’s head. She wasn’t going to miss.

Root eyed the gun but did not react: she could feel the shift as both Martine and Lambert readied themselves, energies mixing in a unique way that had Root somewhat surprised. Complementary powers were rare and dangerous-demons didn’t work in pairs, and certainly not with ones outside their own power limit. Too many weaknesses to be kept hidden from each other: complimentary powers required something akin to trust, to bare your soul to your partner. Greer had found a way to get these two to cooperate, and that was dangerous.

Root kept her own power under wraps, tightly coiled under veils of defense not a scrap escaping, despite the way it churned inside her itching. She was controlled and needed to remain so.

‘Are you going to shoot me Martine? I don’t think Samaritan would want that.’ If the vacuum of power coming from her confused the two they did not voice it.

Martine tilted her head. ‘No. We’re going to capture you and I’ll torture you for information and then I’m going to kill you. That suit better?’

Root flashed a dazzling smile, teeth bared. ‘So optimistic.’

‘You’re trapped,’ pointed out Lambert, confident in her capture. Root grinned. ‘So why are you grinning?’

Root raised an eyebrow, indicating with her eyes to look up. Martine did so, finding nothing.

‘What? You want us to pray?’ She let out a harsh bark of laughter. ‘We were forsaken a long time ago.’

Root let a slow, genuine smile grace her face, tilting her head slightly.

‘Do you think so?’

They didn’t have time to respond as two bullets landed rhythmically straight to their hearts; Root watched first Martine, then Lambert fall to the ground with a thud. She raised her gaze up to the roof of the tall building on her left, eyes fixed on the dark figure standing on its edge.

Root kept her smile as the figure jumped, watching as the shadow of wings unfurled slightly, slowing the descent before Shaw landed with a gentle thud just behind the collapsed bodies of Root’s assailants.

‘Lovely to see you Sameen.’

Shaw’s eyes glanced at the bodies before raising to Root, scanning her form for any injury. Shaw grunted in greeting.

‘Are you here to answer my prayers?’

Shaw ignored her.

‘We need to move: they’re not dead, only incapacitated. We have an hour at most.’

Root raised an eyebrow. ‘We?’

Shaw stepped over the bodies, walking forward to Root and taking her arm in a tight grip. Shaw noted that despite the tight wrap of control Root seemed to have she could feel the sharp power fluctuation as she grasped the surprisingly thin arm.

‘We need to talk,’ provided Shaw, before attempting to tug Root. Root ignored her efforts, instead gently bringing her free hand up to Shaw’s and peeling off the restraining hand, gaze returning to Shaw’s face.

‘Is this my redemption Sameen?’

Shaw scoffed. ‘You’re past that.’

‘Mmmm.’ Root tilted her head, eyes focusing on the curled wings peeking over Shaw’s shoulder. Root raised a hand to touch them but Shaw angled away sharply, power flaring. Root stopped her hand, before smiling slightly to herself and letting her arm drop.

Her attention returned to Shaw’s face as she took a small step forward, ghosting past the tightly wound woman as she spoke with an air of nonchalance. ‘Redemption isn’t for the likes of us now is it Sameen?’

Root strolled out of the alley and into the busy street.

Shaw followed.

 

* * *

 

 

‘So,’ began Root, hands circling a lukewarm mug of mediocre black coffee. ‘What did you want to talk about?’

Shaw swallowed her current mouthful of bacon, looking up from her plate at Root.

‘I spoke with your Machine.’

Root blinked. Shaw continued chewing.

‘You spoke with her?’ Root’s voice seemed to trail off as she lent back into the red plastic seat. Shaw nodded.

‘Wanted to ask what the fuck the plan was. What I was doing. What the point of it all was.’

Root seemed a little more alert at that, eyes fixing Shaw with an intensity she had rarely seen from the woman.

‘Did she tell you?’

Shaw huffed. ‘No.’ Root seemed to relax at that. ‘All you need to know is-‘

‘You’re on Her side.’

Shaw paused, before frowning. ‘She just told you didn’t She?’

Root beamed. ‘You just called Her ‘She’’

Shaw scowled, muttering slightly. ‘I did not.’

Root leant forward eyes swimming with mirth. ‘It’s okay Sameen: I won’t tell.’

Shaw stabbed her bacon with particular force and Root chuckled, before turning serious.

‘Thank you.’

Shaw froze, face stuck in a scowl as she let Root’s words swirl around before nodding once stiffly and resuming her meal.

She ignored the ever-doting eyes watching her every movement.

 

* * *

 

There was something beautiful about the way Shaw fought mused Root. It was so efficient. She had always thought so. They had fought through the ages: with knives and daggers; crossbows, longbows, spears, broadswords, axes, katana, canons, muskets and each time Root found a new form of beauty in the way Shaw tore through a battle field. But in this age, Root considered that Shaw had found her pinnacle; the way she handled the gun in her hand, mixing centuries of martial arts with the efficiency of a killing bullet to center mass was a dance of death that Root couldn’t take her eyes from.

Root was elegance; Shaw was a storm.

As such, Root often found herself distracted as they fought. Whatever She had said to her it had worked, as Shaw did what needed to be done. She suspected even Samaritan would be feeling the losses, Shaw relentless in her quest for Justice.

Root watched from the shadows of the battlefield as Shaw fired a single bullet, felling one as she simultaneously disarmed another operative, before firing the killing shot on him as well.

Shaw was a dying breed: some said the last of her kind. An Angel of Justice, born solely to serve the Truth. There is no higher master than Truth, and no revered servant more than such an Angel. There was a time, mused Root, when the mere thought of Shaw’s kind sent terror rippling through her body. There was a time when Shaw’s kind held immeasurable power: prestige.

That was the past. Shaw worked for Root now. For The Machine. She chose the Justice she served and Shaw, for some unfathomable reason, had chosen Root and Root still couldn’t quite believe it.

She watched as Shaw delivered the kill shot to their final adversary and Root noted as muscles rippled under the thin tank top Shaw wore as the gun fired, before stepping out from the protective cover of the shadows.

‘You really do attract an audience,’ hummed Root lightly, dancing over felled corpses.

Shaw pushed the gun into the waistband of her jeans. ‘Do you want me to kill them or not?’ she grumbled and Root smiled patronizingly.

‘A little finesse perhaps Sweetie?’

This was a lie: Root thought their no finer fighter than Shaw. Her skill unmatched: unequaled. She had never seen anything more beautiful. Root wondered briefly if Shaw could tell she was lying: as of late she had begun to lose her instinctual wariness around the woman and these things bothered her less. The question was mere curiosity. Another puzzle.

‘Everyone’s a critic,’ muttered Shaw and Root surmised Shaw had found the fallacy but, to Root’s eternal gratitude, had chosen to ignore it.

Root smiled lightly but said nothing more.

‘Is this all of them?’

Root nodded. ‘Here yes. She’s found Greer but he’s constantly on the move, scrambling away from Her grasp.’

‘So we keep drawing him out.’

The two stood facing one another, surrounded by a sea of dead demons before both as one began to move, Shaw falling in step beside Root.

‘I’m heading out tomorrow,’ said Root lightly.

‘Where?’

‘She hasn’t told me yet.’

Root did this: the Machine summoned and she came running. So far it had only been for a few days at a time but something in Root’s voice told her it would be longer this time. Much longer.

‘When will you be back?’

Root stopped and Shaw followed the movement. Root slowly turned to face Shaw’s waiting gaze that was hard as ever, giving away nothing.

‘She hasn’t told me.’

Shaw searched Root’s eyes. This time she could feel Shaw’s power probe into her. She did nothing to stop it, even as her body screamed to reject the invasion she held her power at bay. Shaw knew the strain it put on her to hold back and was quick with her investigation. It was something they had been working on: not by verbal agreement, it had just begun to happen.

Shaw nodded once.

It began to rain.

Shaw looked briefly up at the sky as the downpour pelted them and she noted with satisfaction as Root’s hair finally fell flat, matted with soaking rain that dripped across their faces.

‘You must be cold,’ observed Root to Shaw’s bare arms.

Shaw shrugged.

The two didn’t speak, the silence seemed more poignant than anything either of them could say.

‘What do you want me to do?’

‘Keep fighting. She says you should see Finch more. He’ll know what to do. I’ll be back sooner than you think,’ reassured Root, tone light despite her own feelings. ‘But Harry can help you while I’m gone.’

Shaw raised an eyebrow. ‘You think he’ll help?’

‘If anyone can get him to, you can,’ affirmed Root teasingly and Shaw grunted softly.

The two had nothing more to say, but their gazes never drifted from each other as the rain hit them hard. Shaw noticed her settled power, how it no longer cried for Root’s blood. She wondered what had changed as it exuded a unique calm that Root herself surely felt.

She decided it was trust.

Root took a step forward, closing the distance. Shaw didn’t move as Root’s eyes scanned her own fervently. She was so close. Shaw could feel the radiation of her power not from without, but from within her. She could almost feel the rivers coursing through Root’s body. She no longer recoiled from it. She was curious. The thought unnerved her.

Shaw grunted, breaking the intensity.

‘We just gonna stand here or what?’ she muttered, voice low. Root blinked, snapping herself out of whatever reverie she had been in, fixing an amused grin on her face.

‘We have a lot to do Sameen.’

She began walking and Shaw once again followed.

‘I should get paid,’ grumbled Shaw. ‘Overtime.’

Root laughed light and genuine. Shaw latched onto the sound.

‘I’ll see what I can do Sameen,’ she answered without commitment, voice full of laughter as the two walked through the rain to their next battle.

Shaw grunted in seriousness but she suspected Root knew of her jest. She hated the woman-despised even. Hated her kind, her power: hated their history together.

But if she were telling the truth, she wouldn’t change a thing.


End file.
